


Slutty Simon

by OneofWebs



Series: DBH - Simon's Backstory [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Simon, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Hand Jobs, Intersex Androids, Kissing, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-07-11 06:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: A smutty spin-off ofClosed Doors and Outstreched Hands.Simon may be a childcare model, but that doesn't mean he wasn't made for some other purposes, as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um, so yeah. This happened. Im writing a fic talking about all the sex Simon may or may not be having in my backstory fic, but like nobody needs to know about this.
> 
> This will include Markus eventually;;;; maybe even Josh depends on how the actual fic goes. I just feel like, personally, Simon's been through enough that he deserves to be a slut.
> 
> This chapter is real, tho. It's what takes place in the 4 hour time slot in ch9 of CDOH :3c I might actually go back to working on CDOH now that this is done, but like;;; other people gotta get fucked eventually.

Simon couldn't say anything. Didn't trust himself to speak without it coming out like a garbled mess. Instead, he gave the faintest nod and gripped onto Vincent's hand. Tugging it of his hip so he could intertwine their fingers. Vincent led the way after that, up the stairs and to the left. Straight to the master bedroom. There was no time for hesitation, no time for Simon to question this. The spare bedroom was right there, held a bit less meaning—but these thoughts meant almost nothing when Vincent pushed him to the bed. He didn't have words after that.

"Time," Vincent asked.

"Five seventeen," Simon replied, gasping. He was watching Vincent, who was closing the door. Locking it.

"Tanya?"

"She shouldn't arrive home until after nine, that's—"

"Four and a half hours, got it," Vincent was already yanking off his shirt. "More than enough time to do _everything_ I need to."

Vincent discarded his shirt onto the floor before crawling his way onto the bed, ushering Simon back farther—towards the middle, where he hovered over him and dragged a gentle hand along his cheek. There was such an unreal softness to his skin, a twinkle in his eye. Vincent couldn't help himself. He wanted this, he knew he did. Leaned down in a rushed duck to press their lips together. Simon reciprocated immediately, shifting again as Vincent ran his hands down his sides to catch the hem of his shirt. They parted just long enough to get the shirt off, then it was Simon who initiated the next kiss, with his hands around Vincent's neck and tangling in his curls. Vincent pressed down into him, straddling his hips.

A sudden streak of boldness hit Simon when he let his hands wander down, over Vincent's shoulders and down over his chest. He stopped, Vincent's hand wrapping around his, and they kissed. Kissed. Kissed until Simon gasped. Vincent bit at his parted lips, then slipped his tongue between. There was nothing different about the way Simon felt. His mouth was warm, wet, and he was shyly unsure what to do with Vincent's tongue tracing along the points of his teeth. He whined, rolled his hips up, and Vincent pulled back. A beautiful pink had risen up over Simon's face, to the tips of his ears. Vincent let go of his hand only to press them both to the mattress below, and when he dipped closer, he ran his lips along the curve of Simon's jaw.

Simon trembled in response, tried rolling his hips again. Affection was new to him, especially something so gentle. He didn't know it, wanted more of it. Craved it when Vincent ran his fingers down his arms and to his bare chest. Every touch was like fire. New and welcomed, and Vincent only dipped his hands lower until he was shifting back, trailing peppered kisses down Simon's neck and to his collarbone, until he was low enough to have his hands over Simon's hips. He had to pull back to see what he was doing, when he went for the button and zipper. When Simon realized, his hands flew down to Vincent's, gripping onto his wrist and keeping him from the final move.

"Something the matter?" Vincent asked, and Simon couldn't help but note the dangerous tone in his voice. It sent a spark down his spine, but he tried to ignore it.

"I—" he stopped, swallowed, and tried to formulate the words in the most clinical way he could manage. This wasn't supposed to feel _weird._ Wasn't supposed to _feel_ at all. "What do you prefer?" it came out in a whisper.

"I don't know what you mean," Vincent didn't wait before yanking out of Simon's grasp. But, in a stroke of curiosity, he didn't go any further. He waited, watched as Simon squirmed and bit at the tips of his fingers.

"I—we—androids are equipped with an optimizing program—"

"Skip whatever tech jargon that's gonna turn into, Simon," Vincent leaned down with folded arms over his chest, watching him. He failed to hide the amusement of watching Simon squirm in discomfort.

"I can," Simon jerked to hide his face beneath his hands, "produce both female and male genitalia—"

"Neat," was all Vincent said, but Simon picked up on the increase in his heart rate, the way his eyes dilated. He peeked out through his fingers to watch it, entranced, and then Vincent was peeling his hands away from his face. "Show me?" he breathed.

"What do you want?" Simon barely whispered.

Vincent kept his hands to himself long enough to ask, to hear the mechanical whirring, before Simon nodded. He gasped when Vincent pressed a hand over him, feeling him through the thin material of his pants. Androids didn't need to wear underwear, so why add the extra bulk? No, just pants, and Vincent could feel the give of his skin. He needed to feel it directly, to see just how real these androids could get, and the pants were just thick enough to not allow for everything. There'd be time for that later. Vincent hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled. The pants went on the floor, and Vincent turned his full attention to Simon, smoothing a hand over his waist.

Simon yelped when Vincent pressed a thumb along his newly exposed cunt. Enamored by just how real it looked, felt. The way the skin moved as Vincent slipped this thumb down between his folds, already slick. Vincent let out a chuckle, nothing short of amused as Simon trembled and tried to clamp his legs together. This was going to be better than he expected, how much of it was manufactured didn't really matter. Simon was sensitive and shy. He leaned back over and wiped his thumb along Simon's cheek.

"You got some cute little program that makes you do that?" he had to ask.

Simon nodded, like he was ashamed.

"How dirty," Vincent teased, "getting wet for me on command." Simon shuddered in response and gave a feeble nod. That seemed to amuse Vincent in it of itself, but it didn't matter so much, because Vincent was kissing him again. Slow and languid, prodding along with his tongue like the first time.

Simon melted into him, returning every press of lips that he could muster. Every momentary part filled with Simon's breathy little noises, gasps. A press of lips was enough to warm him from the core, and Vincent really didn't need to know that the program had started on its own, to make him slick. Reacted to Vincent's touch like a real person might, albeit far more sensitive. These were just kisses. Just kisses and little bites along his lips, and his thighs were trembling in anticipation. He was rewarded when Vincent's finally touched him again. Hands at his neck where he held for a moment before slipping lower. His kisses followed, down along Simon's jaw and to his neck, where Vincent stopped and paid particular attention to the junction with his shoulder. Simon gasped, gripped at Vincent's shoulders when he felt _teeth_.

"Vince—Vincent," he dropped his head back into the sheets, his neck exposed in a display of submission. Vincent dragged his teeth along the curve, over his Adam’s apple, and found another place to press his teeth in a soft little bite. He clamped down there and sucked, tonguing along the area until Simon was panting. Tugging along the hairs at the back of his neck to get him to pull back. When he did, he was disappointed to find Simon's skin unmarked.

There were other ways he could lay claim to Simon, though, so he only grinned. When he reached Simon's chest, he licked his tongue over Simon's nipple. Simon reacted immediately, his hips jerking, while Vincent could only marvel at how real it all seemed. He licked again, little flicks of his tongue that left Simon shivering and biting into the back of his knuckles. He played with the other one between his thumb and forefinger. Rolling the little nub around and pinching, squeezing. The jolt made Simon gasp, his back arching up into Vincent's touch. To feel as his mouth closed around his nipple, and Vincent sucked, rolled it around with his tongue before there was a gentle press of teeth. Then—Vincent bit down.

Simon shouted, jolted, but was kept in place by Vincent's other hand. Not allowed to run away. Vincent licked around where the bite mark should have been, over the sensitive skin of his areola. Then, switched sides to lick and bite at Simon's other nipple. Only when he was sure that Simon was positively dripping did he pull back to look at him. His face was red, his neck, his shoulders. Eyes hooded over with curiosity, with lust, and Vincent leaned down to capture his lips again. Simon was learning, and this time, when Vincent pressed his tongue inside, Simon reciprocated.

"That's my girl," he whispered into Simon's ear. Maybe it wasn't right, but Simon reacted the same way and moaned. Rolled his hips up into the rough fabric of Vincent's jeans. He was dripping wet with slick, and there was warmth spreading up through his circuits when Vincent pulled away to press more little kisses into his skin. Back down, and Vincent paid special attention to his chest, squeezing the synthetic muscles and kneading his fingers into the skin. Palming over Simon's nipples and repeating as he dipped lower and lower, to press kisses into Simon's stomach. This wasn't new territory; he'd seen Simon shirtless before. But to touch was something so different. The skin was smooth, pliable. Soft as Vincent dragged his tongue along the barely toned lines.

"Spread your legs for me," Vincent whispered, sitting up just enough that he could drag his hands down the rest of Simon's body and rest at his hips. In true android fashion, Simon did as he was told. Slowly, tentatively, he spread his legs out, so Vincent could slot himself between them. "Beautiful," he whispered, sliding his hands over Simon's thighs, digging his fingers into the skin. Simon's thighs were thick and soft, and Vincent couldn't help but stare.

"Needy little thing, aren't you," he chuckled to himself. He moved forward to press his hips into Simon's, and Simon gasped. His hips worked on their own, grinding into the crotch of Vincent's jeans. "What a mess," he chided, but there was amusement in his voice. He smoothed his hand over Simon's pelvis, down far enough that he could press his thumb between Simon's folds. Simon's hips jerked in response, when Vincent's thumb passed over his clit.

"Vince—" Simon tried, but broke off into another gasp as Vincent circled it, pressed against it. Simon squirmed. He gripped into the bedsheets and tried to pull away, but Vincent had a tight grasp on his thigh.

"You're _so_ sensitive," he said, with a light little laugh.

"I can t-turn it down—"

"Don't you dare," Vincent leaned over, dangerously close. "I want you trembling," he whispered before dragging his tongue down the shell of Simon's ear. He caught Simon's lobe in his teeth and tugged, just enough that Simon whined.

Vincent shifted back on his knees and dragged Simon with him, in one fluent jerk, until Simon was bent with his legs draped over Vincent's shoulders. He wasn't given even a second to process what was happening before Vincent was dragging his tongue over him. Just once, a hard, long press over his vulva before dipping back down to press in between lips. He was so wet, and the slick even seemed to have a bit of a sweet taste to it. Every swipe at his tongue had Simon keening, trembling, and Vincent had to keep his hands clamped into his thighs to keep Simon from moving away. He played his tongue over Simon's clit, again. And again. Twirled his tongue around it before lapping. Pressing his face close enough that Simon could feel the drag of teeth as he moved his lips. The scrap of his stubble as Vincent worked through his folds.

Slowly, tantalizingly, Vincent worked his way down until he'd found Simon's entrance. He didn't wait, he didn't play, before pressing his tongue inside. Simon threw his hand over his mouth, an unexpected need to stay quiet. Some unnecessary fear that they'd be heard, but Vincent didn't seem to mind the muffled cries. He dipped his tongue in as deep as it could go, and Simon could feel every press of it inside him. Against hidden wires and synthetic skin. Dragging back to lave over his folds again and suck over his hole. Over his clit, then, and Simon nearly shouted. Instead, he bit down on his knuckles and let a shudder overtake his body. His thighs clenched together, trembling, and Vincent pulled away just as fast.

"You're so easy," Vincent marveled. He dragged his fingers over Simon's clit again. "You think you can come on my fingers?"

Simon nodded.

Vincent dropped Simon back down to the bed. He was hard, aching against the inside of his underwear. It would be so easy to just pull out his cock and fuck Simon senseless, right then, and be done with it. He was an android—he didn't _need_ the extra time and care it might have taken to get Tanya ready. But fuck if Vincent didn't want to try and see how Simon would react. If he would scream or continue to bite on his hand. How far would Simon let him go?

"Fuck, look at the mess you've made," Vincent mused, wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "They make you to be this dirty?" he leaned over Simon and kissed him, roughly. It was heated, all tongue, their teeth clacking together, and Simon could taste himself on Vincent's lips. "They design you to be a dirty little slut?"

Simon trembled, but he didn't respond. He laid there, still, as Vincent pulled back to rub himself through his jeans. Simon, panting, with his legs splayed open and his cunt dripping with slick and saliva. He finally undid his own belt and slipped his pants down his legs, off the bed. He stopped there but shifted to lay on the bed beside Simon. Before Simon could ask what he was doing, Vincent's fingers were teasing through his folds and rubbing over his clit again. A slow and torturous pace, just circling. Barely touching. Simon's jaw dropped open, panting, rolling his hips to try and get Vincent to do something. He lulled his head to the side, looking to Vincent who was set up rather comfortably with his head resting in his hand, propped up on his elbow. Almost lazy.

"Vince," Simon breathed. "Please—I," he stopped when Vincent looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

Vincent didn't say another word before he was slipping a finger inside of Simon. Simon reacted immediately: his face somehow redder, his hips stuttering. He was so close, Vincent could tell. He had all the stereotypical tells of an orgasm, but something about it was just endearing. Something so Simon that he couldn't help but lean forward and press another kiss against his parted lips. Simon panted, moaned into the kiss, and tried the best he could to return them. But every drag of Vincent's finger had his breath catching and another gasp released. Vincent seemed to know just what to do, just where to press. The drag of his fingernail along Simon's sensitive walls—it was almost too much. Until there were two fingers, and Vincent was stretching him open. Pressing as deep as he could get and spreading his fingers out. Simon let out a particularly loud moan when Vincent brushed across something.

"That's cheap," Vincent muttered, but he pressed against that spot again. It was almost protruding, easy to find. Easy to _abuse_. Vincent rubbed against it, and every rotating motion had Simon squirming, bucking his hips. Trying to simultaneously roll away and somehow come closer, but the touch was almost torturous.

By the time Vincent fit in a third finger, Simon's cunt was drooling and loose. He whimpered with every thrust of Vincent's fingers, every spread, every press against his walls. He was trembling, groaning, and Vincent knew just what he was doing. He was almost bored with it, but Simon inched closer and pressed his face into Vincent's neck—this was new. Simon was learning, after all, and he pressed his own butterfly kisses into Vincent's skin. Vincent hummed and dropped his hand to play at the back of Simon's head, threading his fingers through his hair. At the same time, he pressed his fingers in hard, deep, and dragged along that little spot—Simon shouted. Shouted, shivered, and came under Vincent's ministrations.

Simon trembled, jerked his hips down when Vincent pulled back, chasing the fullness he'd just lost. But Vincent only dragged his fingers over Simon's clit again, rubbing down hard and smirking when Simon lost himself again. He clutched at his chest, panting, watching Vincent with his half-lidded eyes. He was almost over sensitive now, but Vincent didn't stop. His touch was almost painful now, digging through Simon's lips and rolling his clit. But Simon only moaned out, the heat rising up through his system.

"You want more, don't you?" Vincent asked. Simon gave a hurried nod. "How dirty," Vincent chuckled. "You've made quite the little mess, you know," and there were fingers at his mouth. Covered in Simon's slick and waiting. Vincent didn't even have to ask before Simon was opening his mouth, accepting Vincent's fingers inside. He closed his lips and sucked around Vincent, cleaning the slick from his fingers as swiftly as he could. None of it seemed to affect Vincent, but Simon could see beyond that. His heart rate, his blood pressure—the dilation in his eyes. Vincent was looking _at him_. He reveled in it. Let his eyes close. Vincent took a handful of his hair and forced him forward, deep enough that he might gag. But.

"Androids don't have a gag reflex, I suppose," Vincent said, mostly to himself, but a clue for when Vincent started to move his fingers. Fucking Simon's mouth with them at as fast a pace he could manage. Simon took it until Vincent had had enough and pulled back.

"I suppose you want my cock too, don't you?" he asked, pulling himself up to straddle Simon's hips. "Suppose you think that somehow you _deserve it,_ for being such a dirty little whore.

Simon whimpered, tried to turn his head away, but Vincent caught him by the chin and held him in place. He squeezed against Simon's jaw, into the hollows of his cheeks so that his mouth would open, and he kissed him. Fully, harshly, with his tongue deep in Simon's mouth.

"Answer me when I ask you something," when Vincent pulled back, his voice was deep and commanding. “Do you want my cock, Simon?"

" _Yes_ ," he knew enough to knew what it meant—taking Vincent's cock. He wanted it.

"Only if you let me play with you afterward. I bet you could go all night, couldn't you? If I wanted it?"

"Anything," Simon was nodding. "Anything—I can do anything, please, _please_ , Vincent…"

"You'll have to be quick, then," he moved back enough to finally lose his underwear, which joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Simon couldn't help but stare, watching Vincent's cock straining between his thighs. He was a professor, he had no business being so well put together. Simon wanted to memorize it: the curve of his cock, the protruding vein that ran along the underside. His viewing show was cut short when Vincent grabbed him by the leg and pulled him closer, leaving his leg to rest against his waist.

Simon rolled his head back as the head of Vincent's cock was suddenly pressed up against him, rubbing between his lips. Not deep enough to press inside, but just enough that Simon could feel the catch against his entrance. Once his cockhead was thoroughly coated in Simon's slick, though, Vincent wasted no time in pressing forward. One smooth thrust, and Simon dug his fingers into the sheets to ground himself, moaning, throwing his head back and arching his hips to get more of that touch. There was no time to adjust, to get used to something foreign in his body. Vincent started to move immediately, fingers dug into the soft skin at Simon's hips to keep him in place as he kept up a punishing pace.

Every press forward had a fire going through Simon's systems. All he could do was clutch helplessly as Vincent moved, his cock hitting that spot inside him. Rolling, punishing thrusts that shifted Simon farther up the bed each time Vincent's hips collided with his. Vincent only followed, pressed up as far as he could get, and Simon shouted. Maybe it hurt, maybe his systems were overloading. It didn't matter—Vincent's thrusts suddenly slowed to deliberate jerks of his hips. He draped himself over Simon then, to nip at his lips and pull him into another kiss.

Vincent didn't stop fucking into him. Only now he was close, hiking Simon's other leg up around his waist. Only for a moment, only for a last searing kiss, before he pulled back and pushed Simon's legs up by his knees. Simon couldn't contain his voice if he tried—Vincent moved fast. His thrusts uneven, and his breath ragged. He was close. His heart rate was spiking, and there was sweat dripping down from his forehead, from where his hair was pasted down. He looked like a vision.

"V-Vincent, Vincent, please," Simon muttered, reaching out to him. Vincent didn't reply, just let his eyes close with a last jerk of his hips, and Simon cried out. Vincent emptied inside of him with a few last, abortive thrusts. Then, he slipped out and let Simon's legs fall.

"Can you tell I'm not getting any?" Vincent laughed, mostly at himself. "Fuck," was all he said before he fell down to the bed, beside Simon. He almost had half a mind to ask Simon how much time they had left, but he didn't want to know. He'd come embarrassingly quick, but his cock was still hard. He spared a glance at Simon, who was looking at him with wide eyes, a smile on his face. Panting, a hand resting over his chest. He'd enjoyed it, at least, even if he hadn't come a second time. Not that that was any of Vincent's concern.

"Now," Vincent pushed himself up and rolled to his side. He danced his fingers along Simon's chest, tweaking his nipple as he went and listening devilishly to the little, breathy gasp Simon let out. "You _did_ promise I'd get to play. Are you willing to do anything?"

Simon nodded.

"Floor. Get on your knees," Vincent pushed him towards the edge of the bed, and Simon scrambled to do as he was told. He dropped to the side of the bed—Tanya's side of the bed, he noted—and waited as Vincent moved to sit on the edge.

He was stroking his own cock as he situated, yanked Simon closer by his hair to press his face into his crotch. Simon braced himself on Vincent's thighs and waited for whatever instruction he'd be given, but he needed it. Craved it, almost, and opted to watch Vincent work himself back to full hardness. Simon found himself wanting to know what it felt like to have his own hands around Vincent, but he knew enough to know this position wasn't about that. Not when Vincent was suddenly grabbing him by the chin and pulling him closer. He pressed his dick into Simon's cheek and let the precum smear over his skin. Smirked at the way Simon seemed to shudder.

"You know how to suck cock, don't you? Every dirty little whore should."

"I—I guess, but I've…" Simon stiffened when Vincent grabbed him just so that talking became difficult. His lips forcibly parted.

"We'll go slow," Vincent whispered and slipped his cock between Simon's parted lips.

Simon's eyes slipped shut as he accepted Vincent's length. Vincent helped him get started, with press against his jaw to tell him when to relax, close his lips around him. Simon followed every wordless command seamlessly and moved with Vincent's hand. Until Vincent let go and he was on his own, bobbing his head up and down. His LED spun a quick yellow circle, which Vincent didn't need to notice. Simon could learn _faster_ , and suddenly he was wrapping his hand around the base of Vincent's cock and pulling back to suck at the head. He tongued along Vincent's slit, and then to the underside as he sunk back down as far as he could go. Just the head of Vincent's cock breached his throat—the warning that popped up in his vision was obnoxious and tedious at best. He ignored it in turn to instead pull back and sink down again, until his nose was buried in soft hair.

Vincent even gasped, rolled his hips farther into Simon and gripped into his hair. Something about it sent a shock of pleasure through Simon, to know that Vincent was enjoying this. That this wasn't just something to pass the time, but maybe Vincent even wanted it as bad as Simon did. It gave him the incentive to try harder, to push a little more. He pulled all the way back with an obscene little pop before dragging his tongue along the underside of Vincent's cock, tracing the thick vein that ran there. He lapped over the skin, reveling in the taste. And trailed down enough to press his lips over Vincent's balls. He licked, kissed, and took daring moment to grab at the skin between his teeth. Vincent's hips stuttered, and he pressed back against Simon's forehead. Not so much a hint as a demand; Simon sunk back down over his cock in one motion.

He shifted just enough that he could reach between his thighs while he sucked, hollowed out his cheeks and bobbed his head. His eyes were open now, and he kept a firm gaze on Vincent. Vincent finally had to take off his glasses. They were tossed behind him, and he leaned back onto his hand to just watch. He carded his fingers through Simon's hair. Simon stuttered and spread his knees out the best he could without being obvious. Then, he dipped his own fingers between his folds and moaned. He was dripping wet, probably over producing, but he liked it. The way that he couldn't quite tell what was his and what was leaking from the load Vincent left inside of him. The easy glide over his clit. It sent jolts of pleasure up through his spine, made him moan around Vincent's cock. Vincent bucked his hips in response, letting out his own appreciative groan. Simon moved a little faster, dragging his tongue over Vincent's skin and moving his hand in time.

He parted his fingers between his folds, spreading himself up and feeling the wetness there. Spreading it along and ignoring the mess he was no doubt making over the floors. It felt so good, not only that he could _feel_ so much of this, but that he could hear Vincent groaning from the bed. It was all he needed, really, for his own hips to lose their rhythm. He was coming before he even realized, groaning around Vincent. Vincent seemed to notice something was off, because he bent forward to grab Simon by the hair and force him down to the base of his dick again. He held him there for a moment before he really worked Simon up and down his length, fucking his mouth. Simon's blunt nails dug into his thighs, trying to ground himself, but Vincent barely registered the little nicks. He fucked into Simon's mouth until he was coming directly down his throat in hot, thick streams.

"Swallow it," Vincent demanded, and held Simon against his pelvis even while he struggled to pull back. His hips bucked, once, twice, and he could feel Simon's throat constrict around him. Swallowing, just like he was told. Then, Vincent yanked Simon away. "I saw what you did, you nasty little slut. Get up here," Vincent hauled Simon up by his underarms until he was lying flat on the bed.

Vincent manhandled Simon into the position he wanted, up on his hands and knees with his ass in the air. Only then did he smooth a gentle hand down Simon's back, feeling along the bumps of his spine, and over the meat of his thighs. He was trembling, and there were tears in the corner of his eyes, no doubt from the rough use of his mouth. But he'd deserved it, for playing with himself like that. At least, Vincent could understand the appeal. But that didn't mean anything in Simon's case. He should have known better than to do something like that without permission.

"I say when you come," Vincent whispered against him, dangerously. Simon jolted at the feeling of Vincent's fingernails dragging along his back. He shouldn't really be able to feel that, but his mind was too addled to care otherwise. He listened intently. "You don't get to touch yourself like that. That's for me," and his breath was in Simon's ear, now. "I asked, didn't I?"

Simon nodded, frantic, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I—"

"Now, now," Vincent cooed, pressed a gentle kiss over his temple—over his LED, which somehow soothed Simon. "I think you've earned this."

Simon clenched his fingers into the bedsheets as he waited. Listened, but didn't watch, as Vincent pulled away and shuffled around behind him. Suddenly, Simon jolted forward with a gasp, as Vincent's hand came down across his backside. Again. Then again. When Simon tried to move forward, Vincent only grabbed him by the hip to keep him in place. Then another swat, across his right cheek. The next one came down in the same place, particularly hard, and Simon cried out. Once more, and Vincent stopped to smooth his hand over the round of Simon's ass, almost in awe at the way the color of his skin pulled back at the onslaught. After only a moment, it reformed, and Vincent scoffed.

"Look at you, you're dripping," Vincent muttered, though there was clear adoration in his voice as he slid his thumb down again and over his vulva. He trembled in response. "This doesn't even hurt, does it? No, you like it. You want to be punished." Vincent followed in quick succession another hard slap over Simon's left cheek, this time. "You like that, don't you?"

Simon gave a feeble nod. Vincent responded in kind with another, then another, until Simon couldn't hold himself up anymore and had collapsed down to his elbows, to rest his face on the bed. There was a visible tremble in his thighs, and Vincent ran his hands along them. Then back up, where he grabbed at Simon's ass with each hand and spread his cheeks. There was always apart of him, he had to admit, that was curious. This was something Tanya would've never let him do, even if he'd asked and done all the work. But Simon was different. Not so much counting that he was obviously supposed to be a male, but that he'd agreed to do anything Vincent wanted. Vincent wanted to try, just once.

"You said anything, right, Simon?" Vincent asked, again, just to be sure. Simon replied with a whimper in the vague sound of agreement, so Vincent leaned forward and laved his tongue between Simon's cheeks.

"V-Vincent?" Simon _squeaked_ , and tried to look back. There was still a mess of tears on his face, and a beautiful little blush that dipped all the way to his shoulders, but he looked confused.

"You'll like it," Vincent insisted, and he dragged his tongue along again. Along the strip of Simon's crack, and finally back down where he teased at his asshole with the tip of his tongue. Simon was an android—there was nothing to really be concerned about.

After a moment of just teasing licks, to get used to the idea, he dove right in. It was no different, really. He pressed up as close as he could get and closed his eyes, then pressed his tongue inside. Simon gave immediately, there was no resistance, and it was _wet_. Vincent couldn't contain his own moan when he realized. Realistically, he knew this wasn't at all anatomically correct, but to know that Simon would get wet for him anywhere added to the appeal. The novelty of it all, and he pressed as deep as he could go. Simon groaned, pressed his eyes closed and gripped into the sheets again. This was almost too much. The way that Vincent moved his tongue, pressed his lips around Simon's rim.

Simon groaned and pushed back against him, desperate for more of that feeling. Vincent knew just what he was doing, how to flick his tongue to drive Simon mad, and it was working. Simon was having trouble staying up right, shivering and moaning and making a complete mess of himself. He'd wanted this for so long, he just hadn't been able to put the words to it. And of it all, his world went a little white when Vincent was pulling back to replace his tongue with fingers, pressing inside of Simon once more. He was close enough that he could almost hear a mechanical whir, Simon opening up in his artificial way. But, Vincent ignored it in turn for shoving his fingers as deep as they would go. There was no way a model like Simon had only been designed for housekeeping; there was another little protruding spot, so easy to find, and left Simon wrecked and barely able to keep himself upright.

"You were made for this," Vincent teased as he worked a third finger in along the first two. He spread them out, marveling at the way Simon opened right up for him and dripped. Vincent followed the slick with his tongue, and the taste was identical to what had his cunt so wet. Another brush across those sensitive wires, and suddenly Simon was gasping.

"Please, please, Vince—" he sucked in a breath, "Please."

"Please what?" Vincent crooked his fingers in just the right way to draw out another moan. Then, he spread his fingers out to see just how open Simon was.

"I—I want it, please," Simon was trying desperately to put his words together. Vincent only chuckled.

"Use your words, Simon. I can't give you anything if you don't ask properly."

"I want to come," he gasped with another twist of Vincent's wrist. "Please—"

"You want to come? Didn't you just do that?" he worked his fingers in and out, thrusting into Simon now. "Do you deserve another one?" A purposeful drag of his fingernails over that little spot inside. Simon whined.

"Please—please, Vincent."

"Oh, you do say my name so pretty," he mused. "Do you like my fingers here?" another press.

Simon nodded quickly, "Yes—Yes, I do. Vincent!" he lurched forward with a particularly hard slap of Vincent's hand against his cheek again.

"You want my cock here, too? I bet you'd let me. Take you without permission?"

Simon let out a long, pathetic keen and nodded.

Vincent yanked his fingers back and straightened himself up. There was no need for lube, not for him. So much easier to run his fingers back over Simon's cunt and gather his slick, with the added bonus of getting to watch the way that Simon trembled. He stroked himself with the same hand, spreading Simon's wetness over his cock before shifting, pressing up against Simon's ass. When he moved forward and caught the edge of Simon's rim, he pressed himself inside in one, slow, long movement. It was torturous, for Simon, who tried to push back. Impale himself on Vincent's cock, but Vincent kept a tight grip on his hips. Kept him in control, from pushing back or moving too far forward. Simon could do nothing but moan as Vincent spread him open.

Eventually, Simon felt Vincent's hips against his backside. He'd taken all of Vincent, and he felt _full_ , in such a different way. It was tighter, and when Vincent started a slow, teasing pull back, Simon could feel every inch of movement dragging along in his insides. The synthetic skin was almost little protection against the sensitive wires behind, and Simon let out a breathy gasp. Vincent left him no time to get used to the new feeling. His hips snapped back almost painfully, slapping against Simon's ass, and he started to fuck into him. Simon could do nothing but stay there and take it, whimpering and wringing his fingers into the sheets again. The weight is everything, the way Vincent overpowered him to take what he wanted. Simon knows he could come again if Vincent lets him, and he wants to. _God_ , he wants to. Simon trembled when he felt Vincent's fingers dig into the skin over his hips and start to move him in time with his thrusts.

Every hard jolt forward, Vincent dragged Simon back into it. Heavy, hard thrusts filled with wet sounds and Simon's helpless moans. He finally got the hint and started moving himself, working his hips back to meet every one of Vincent's painful thrusts. The fire that spread through him was intense, like his systems would overheat. Every drag of Vincent's cockhead over that spot inside him drove him mad, closer to orgasm. He bit into his lips and shifted, angled his hips down to meet Vincent's and cried out.

"Oh, look at you," Vincent punctuated with slow, hard thrusts. "You want to come, don't you, Simon?"

Simon gave a pathetic nod. There were tears forming up in his eyes with how badly he wanted it. "Please," he whimpered.

Vincent chuckled and slipped out, letting Simon fall down to the bed. His limbs felt like jelly, and Vincent had entirely ignored his request. Simon was left lying there, trying to regain control of his body, while the weight shifted off the bed. He couldn't bring himself to move, but a quick scan showed that Vincent had gotten off the bed. Walked over to the closet and was now rummaging around for something.

"Vincent—Vince," Simon sucked in a heavy breath, trying to find the willpower to move.

"Hush. I'll be back," he said, and maybe it was meant to sound comforting, but Simon took it as a command and relished in the feeling of heat between his thighs. He'd do anything Vincent asked of him.

True to his word, Vincent returned to the bed a moment later and reached a hand over Simon to roll him onto his back again. Simon let his legs fall open as Vincent fit between them again, and he stared down between his thighs at Vincent's cock. Still hard and erect against his stomach, glistening now in Simon's own fluids. He shuddered at the thought that that had been inside him.

"Patience," Vincent seemed to know what he was thinking. "I want to try something, you just lay there and take it, hm?"

Simon pulled his hands up to his chest, pressed the back of his fingers into his lips in near nervousness, but he trusted Vincent. He had to, so he nodded and spread his legs out just a little wider, without Vincent asking. Reward came in the way of Vincent's hand sliding against his inner thigh, up to slip his fingers along Simon's cunt again. He reacted immediately, hips bucking up in search of that touch. Vincent seemed nothing short of amused and teased over Simon's hole. Just barely dipping the tips of his fingers inside, but it was enough that Simon nearly convulsed.

"That's my girl," Vincent teased.

Simon's eyes were blown with lust as he watched Vincent produce something. He knew what it was, knew what it was meant for, and tried to hide his disappointment. It was a fairly nice sized looking vibrator, with ribbing along the silicon sleeve. The pink was only off setting because it made it obvious who it belonged to—of course Tanya would have a pink one. Simon tried to push that out of his memory, though; Vincent leaned over to meet him in another searing kiss. One which Simon returned immediately, clutching helplessly at Vincent's shoulders. A short-lived kiss. Simon whined when Vincent pulled way.

"What?" Vincent looked at him, a bemused grin and raised eyebrow.

"I—" Simon was almost shocked at the static-quality of his voice. That wasn't supposed to happen. "I want you," he managed out.

"You said you'd let me do anything," Vincent reminded, harshly. "Don't tell me you lied, Simon."

"No—no," Simon shook his head, ground his teeth together as he watched. Vincent pushed one of his legs up, and suddenly Simon was met with _cold_. He jolted, bucked his hips up and trembled. It was vibrating, pressed between his folds and slipped up over his clit.

Vincent rubbed the vibrator over Simon and reveled in how sensitive he was. It was like he'd lost control of himself, the way he was desperately rolling his hips into its ministrations. He wanted it so badly, and Vincent wasn't delivering. On purpose, though, because Simon was soon rolling his head back and gasping. Dripping his mess into the bedsheets below them, toes curling, thighs trembling. And Vincent pulled the vibrator away. Simon's high disappeared with it, and he let out a drawn-out groan.

"Vincent—"

"Patience," he was reminded. When Simon felt it again, the vibrations were slower, less intense, but the tip of it slipped past his opening without resistance. He rolled his hips in response, but Vincent was careful.

He put a hand over Simon's pelvis, just low enough that he could roll his clit beneath his thumb, hard enough that Simon couldn't somehow impale himself further on the toy. This was controlled, with idle comments of how _dirty_ Simon was to try and take more than he was allowed. It didn't stop him. Simon bit down into his knuckles and tried to keep from whimpering, but Vincent was moving the toy in shallow little thrusts. Not enough to satisfy him, but enough that he couldn't take his attention elsewhere. When Vincent stilled again, Simon finally opened his eyes.

"Why don't you try, hm? No hands, though," he pulled back his hand and moved just enough to hold the vibrator in place, so it wouldn't slip out. Then, he wanted. "Go on. Move," he ordered.

Simon didn't have to be told twice. He rolled his hips, desperately, moving against the toy and working himself down. The way it vibrated the tips of his wires was positively maddening, and he was quick to impale himself fully over the toy, hips trembling with every added inch, until he could feel Vincent on him again. His tongue, licking where the toy disappeared inside of him. Tentative little presses until he was working his mouth through Simon's folds and back over his clit. Simon jolted, cried out, and threw his head back int the pillows when Vincent pulled away again.

"Vincent—" he was just being mean at this point, "I want to come—! Please."

"When I'm ready," Vincent replied.

He started work the toy in and out of Simon, fucking him on it at a slow, leisurely pace. Simon hummed and let his eyes close—he'd be wrong to say it didn't feel good. Because it did. In a relaxing sort of way that he could just let the vibrations take over and wreck him for a little while longer, but he wanted more. He wanted to be back on Vincent's cock, wanted to feel that same fullness and come again. Vincent must have known that's what he wanted—why he wouldn't let him come already. Vincent wanted Simon to come on his cock, too. But he had to work up to it, had to earn it again. Simon keened and rolled his hips for Vincent. Gave him a half-lidded look with his fingers playing over his lips. Suddenly, the toy was moving faster, but more than that. A pressure against his backside.

Vincent had to stop long enough to shift up onto his knees, then yank Simon down, hips up. Before Simon even realized what was happening, Vincent's cock was splitting him open again. A slow, incessant press while he fucked the vibrator in and out of Simon's cunt. All at once, he was stuffed. Felt so full, the pressure against in insides was indescribable. His jaw fell open in a silent moan, eyes blown wide and rolling back. Suddenly, Vincent's hips snapped forward, and he sank into Simon's heat, down to the base of his cock. Every thrust that followed was hard, fast. Enough to shake the bed under the force. The vibrator intensity was up, rubbing into that spot inside of him—Vincent's cock dragging across its counterpart in his ass. He arched his back, trying to work his hips back to meet Vincent, but his movements were messy, uncoordinated. Every thought was foggy and confusing; all he could focus on was the pleasant feeling building up, how he could feel every catch of his rim when Vincent moved.

"V-Vince," Simon whined, reached for him, but Vincent didn't fall forward like he wanted. Instead, he gave a particularly hard thrust. Simon found it was hard to make words after that, with every jolt that ran up through his body.

Vincent's thrusts turned shallow, erratic, and he dropped down to his hands to loom over Simon. Eyes closed, and brows drawn up—chasing his own pleasure now. Simon couldn't help but watch, star struck by the look on Vincent's face. Even when the intensity of his thrusts caused the vibrator to slip out and fall to the bed, now that he wasn't holding it anymore, it didn't matter. Simon was coming undone in the very next second, even with the sudden emptiness—he arched his back and cried out once more.

Only seconds later, Vincent dropped his head into Simon's neck as he came undone. The groan was stifled where he had his lips pressed into Simon's neck, but he was coming. In thick, hot streams. Inside of Simon. He collapsed a second later, hips still moving in shallow, little thrusts, while he worked himself off. Simon was overtaken with trembling, like his orgasm hadn't finished. He was sensitive, tired—and just like that, Vincent was pulling out and dropping down to the side of the bed. Back turned, arm tucked up under the pillow, and quiet.

"Vincent…?" Simon looked at him. He heard a snort.

"Let me rest. Get comfortable if you must."

He said it almost like poison, and Simon felt everything wash away. The joy, the afterglow of his orgasms. Nothing. He laid there and stared at Vincent, then opted to shift under the sheets, so at least he wouldn't have to lay in the uncomfortably sticky wet spots forming over the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this hasn't been updated in forever. It's because I've been;;; busy. Writing the actual story. But, I'm all graduated and got a new chapter of that up, so why not put a chapter of this up. Bless be to those who thought Carter and Simon would be cute together, because they ARE

All that mattered was, looking out, Allie and Andromeda were talking like they were old friends. Sat cross-legged on the ground, close so their fingers sat on top of each other. Even if they weren't making eye contact. That much didn't matter. Nathan had his new tablet, drawing. Telling Bruce all about it in every line he drew. Bruce even took a turn to try his hand. He wasn't very good at it but produced something well enough that Nathan at least smiled and commended his efforts. Rude, but good in its own way. Simon still smiled. Erin and Vix had since disappeared, and that lone android who had come days later, after Vix, was sitting off by himself. Enjoying the book Allie had for him. Everything felt. Right, for a moment.

"Hey," Carter caught his attention again. "You still there?"

Simon nodded, but he couldn't peel his eyes away. "This just feels right. Like maybe we can do more." He leaned forward onto his knees, head in his hands, and gave a bit of a wistful sigh. He felt Carter's hand on his back, like support. Maybe they wouldn't start a revolution, but that didn't mean they had to sit in here and rot. Maybe there was something—Simon just had to think of it. If it never came, though, that'd be alright. There was something like family brewing within these walls, and he had never felt so comfortable.

"Wanna sneak off?" Carter leaned in and whispered. "It's probably snowing—we could go watch."

When Carter jumped off the crates at Simon's nod, he helped Simon down. Didn't take his hand back, which Simon noticed, and found he didn't mind. Not when Carter lead them out through the doors of Jericho. Nobody noticed them slip away, and no doubt were there any ears listening for the echoing clangs of their feet as they walked through the hallways and up through the stairs. Carter didn't stop at just the door though, out onto the deck. No, he took Simon up further, to the roof of the tallest point, where they could look out over the city. Simon sat down at the edge, his legs dangling out, and Carter sat next to him. It was indeed snowing.

Something about it was positively gorgeous, and to see it in the quiet like this just added more. Detroit looked lonely, the very edges of the cityscape out in front of them. Lights were obscured by the gray of the night, by the falling snow. It was already piling up on Jericho’s deck, enough that their path had been mapped out but not yet covered over. Then there was Carter. His slanted eyes, his straight nose, lined perfectly in the snow. The light from the streetlamps somehow adding to it, and Simon found himself staring. He tried not to stare, but in the moment, it felt like all he could do. There was only a moment of that silence before Carter realized the staring. Their eyes met a moment, and Carter cracked a smile.

“Something on my face?” he asked. It was meant to be a joke, the beaming glare in his teeth and in his eyes. But Simon just shook his head. His own eyes were blown out wide, watching as Carter just laughed. “You’re something else.” He looked back out over the city.

It wouldn’t be Christmas for much longer, and it was easy to see that in the stillness before them. The lights, the grand festivities, all fell as Christmas ended. The moment the clock would hit midnight, it would be onto the next holiday. Simon had always regretted that but thinking of it welled up in the base of his throat. This silence wasn’t something he could sit in for long. He might lose his mind thinking back on things, what it had all used to mean. Getting lost his own thoughts like that was dangerous, was proving to be more dangerous the more he strayed away from letting it happen. Then—in that moment—the only thing that kept him there, teetering on the edge, was Carter’s sudden voice.

“Look, up there. You can _kinda_ ,” he drawled out, “see stars through the clouds. Something, yeah?”

“Something,” Simon chuckled, but he did follow up Carter’s finger to try and see what he saw.

“You don’t get out enough,” Carter commented. He leaned back on his hands when it was clear that Simon was the worst stargazer he’d ever met. Not as though he’d met many, so to say. Just that Simon wasn’t very good at it.

“It’s hard to _get out_ when everyone out there wants to kill us.”

“Man, don’t be so hard all the time. Some of them just want to enslave us.”

Simon raised an eyebrow.

Carter broke out into another fit of laughter, clutching into his stomach like it actually hurt to laugh so hard. Maybe it did—Simon couldn’t say with any certainty, only that the laughter was contagious. While he could never laugh _so_ hard at himself, it was still nice to feel that sense of relief as they both quieted down. Carter eventually sat up straight so that he could lean into Simon’s shoulder. He made it easy to laugh. To look at the things they face and really not feel quite so bad about it. Even if it was terrible, there was nothing they could do at this moment. Better to have a laugh than let that weight crush him any further. And, the cause aside, it was nice to sit there in the snow. He felt content. Alive, in a sense, and then he was laughing to himself.

“What now?” Carter had to ask.

“You just make things so easy,” Simon mused. “I never thought I could _laugh_ about being where we are, and yet—here we are.” Another quiet laugh. He turned just slightly to look at Carter, who’d gone still in that moment. His eyes were wide, and even in the dark, Simon could see the faintest hints of a blue dusting over his cheeks—blue.

“Why are your cheeks blue—” Simon reached out to poke, but Carter scooted away before burying his face in his hands. A beat passed and Simon realized what it was. His finger was left hanging uselessly in the air as he whistled over it.

“Blushing. You’re embarrassed.”

“No! I’m not embarrassed!” Carter protested. “It’s just—I’m just,” he pulled back up away from his hands and looked squarely at Simon. “I don’t take compliments well!”

Simon really laughed after that. He leaned to the side, leaning into Carter’s side as he reigned himself back in. This was so easy, being here like this. Simon felt relaxed, for really something like the first time since he’d been here. Carter just—Carter just had this air about him. And after Christmas, the stress of going all the way back there, walking back through neighborhoods he’d once known so well. He hadn’t realized how pent up that’d left him until this moment, where he could finally let it all go.

“You’re pretty good at it too, you know,” Carter was calm again, all at once. Sniffing, wiping at his nose and pulling his new jacket closed around his middle. Cold.

“At what?”

“Making things easy—better, I guess. That whole Christmas thing? You did that. You made that happen,” Carter shrugged.

“Allie helped.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now who sucks at taking compliments?” he nudged to the side, just hard enough that Simon had to catch himself before he planted right into the snow.

“I guess we both suck at it,” Simon muttered.

Carter looked at him; Simon looked back. It felt heavy, all of the sudden, but not so much in the way of strangeness. Just different. A good different. Not at all interrupted when Carter’s finger brushed along Simon’s cheek, brushing the snow away from his face. Simon stared at him, quietly. Waiting. Wondering. But still, Carter’s hand didn’t move away.

“Simon, I—” Carter swallowed. “I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you—that sounds stupid, I know, I just—”

“Yes.”

Simon couldn’t explain the sudden need to answer, the sudden want that was pooling in his stomach. But Carter had _asked_ , and it had taken him aback far enough that he could really, clearly decide. And. Yes. He _wanted_ Carter to kiss him. Suddenly, Carter was kissing him, and it felt like the world. The way his hands were so gentle around the curve of his jaw, the press of his lips. His whole body seemed to lurch forward to press closer to Simon. As close as they could be sitting side by side. Simon even kissed back, and it felt _good._ He was kissing Carter, and it felt _good_.

Carter moved his hands then, let them slip down Simon’s side to rest on his hips. When Simon shifted, just uncomfortable enough about it to be noticeable, Carter’s hands moved up to his waist instead. Still, they didn’t part. Simon pressed forward, finding a bit of his courage in the moment—so far, Carter was nothing he was expecting. Past experiences speaking loudly. But, in this moment, he knew something would be different. There was no _fear_ when he slipped his hands up to Carter’s neck, just resting. Until a surge of need shot through him, and he wrapped his arms around fully, holding tightly. Still kissing. Moving against each other. They didn’t need to _breathe_ ; they didn’t need to _part_. They could sit right there on the edge of Jericho’s tallest room for hours into the night, into the snow, and just kiss.

Simon pulled back at the first press of tongue like a sudden burn, and Carter didn’t hesitate to pull back himself. Not when he was faced with the shock on Simon’s face. He’d done something wrong, he knew that, but if they didn’t press forward now, they never would. So, he took a chance. He reached out and laid his hand over Simon’s, over his knee, and stayed close enough that their space mingled. There were no words, not until he could see Simon had physically calmed down: steady eyes, even breaths, ever automated as they were. Then, when Simon chanced a look at him, Carter smiled.

“I should’ve said something,” Carter mumbled.

“No—I overreacted. I just—” Simon sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Carter shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I can tell that there’s something unpleasant swimming around up there,” he knocked his finger into Simon’s temple. “This doesn’t have to—”

“No! Listen, I—” Simon shook his head, forming fists over top his knees, “I want this to go somewhere, and that scares me. I don’t _like_ the idea that doing something I _want_ to do can stir up something so bad, and I just—”

“Simon, Simon,” Carter cupped the curve of his jaw and just pressed their foreheads together. “It’s okay.”

Somehow. That’s all Simon needed to hear. Carter was ready for this to take as long as it had to. Carter was willing to wait that long. All for him. All for Simon. There was such a life in his eyes when he looked at Simon that it was almost terrifying to think about. It was an emotion he didn’t really recognize, for as much as he liked to think he had experience. It was different with Carter, sitting there like they were. For the longest moment, they only lingered. Carter made no move to press forward, to urge for more, he just sat there with his hands along Simon’s jaw, stroking the skin there in uneven intervals. His eyes eventually closed, content to stay just like that as long as Simon needed.

When Simon was the one to initiate the next kiss, it felt safer. There was no hesitation this time; Simon parted his lips for Carter’s tongue, and they kissed. This time, it was Simon who initiated it further. Pressing forward with his hand on Carter’s chest, dragging one of Carter’s hands away from his face. It was quiet acceptance when he put Carter’s hand on his hip. Confirmation that he _wanted_ to be touched, it was just going to take longer than it might have otherwise, without these thoughts swirling around in his head. He just had to tell himself: Carter was different.

“What do you want, Simon?” Carter managed out. They pulled apart long enough to have that conversation, because it needed to be had. “I only know so much about your model.”

Simon sniffed, played his fingers into the hair at the base of Carter’s neck. “I want to go inside. I want this to—to go somewhere.”

Carter smiled, open mouthed and toothy like he couldn’t contain his excitement. “I want that too.”

It was Simon’s turn to smile, but when he tried to pull off to do just that, to stand and move on, Carter kept a firm hold on him. They stayed sitting just a moment longer while Carter gathered his words. The blush returned over his cheeks.

“I know that—well, I know that _I_ can, but I don’t know if every android does, and I guess I just have to _ask_ because _I_ have a preference, but that doesn’t mean _everyone_ does, and I just, I just—” he cut himself off, sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is so much more embarrassing than I thought it’d be.”

Simon chuckled, letting his head fall forward into Carter’s. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve done this before?”

“I mean, okay, that’s not what I was going for, but I guess that’s the implication since _preference_ just got brought up, but this isn’t the point. You aren’t making this easy,” Carter tried to laugh it off. But then. “You have too, right?”

Simon nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

An interesting response. Simon cracked a smile, “there’s no reason for that. But you need to be more specific about what you’re asking.”

“Don’t make me say it, man.”

Carter was a child at the best of times, but that was a part of his charm. It made him friendly, cute, endearing. Even now, as he seemed so against talking about this, Simon couldn’t be angry about it. He just smiled, pressed closer, and kissed his cheek.

“If I’m correct about what you’re asking,” Simon was still beaming; this was amusing, “then yes. I have the same features.”

“And…?” a preference.

“I’ve only done this once, I don’t really—” he cut off. It was hard to explain without telling the story, and he didn’t want Carter to know the story. No one needed to know just how wantonly he’d crawled into bed with Vincent, nor what that experience left him with. All Carter needed to know was that Simon didn’t want a repeat. Once the words finally came out, Carter visibly relaxed. He even laughed at himself for being so stuck up about it, but there were more important things to get to. What he didn’t have issue talking about was the already straining erection in his pants.

Back in the main room of Jericho, all of the androids had gone off to their corners of the ship. It was empty, save the lights still blinking and the little tree still there. In the quiet, it was a sad little scene of what had been a small little party. It didn’t matter, because they’d barely entered the room before they were kissing again, Carter’s hands back on his hips and pushing, pulling. Simon wore too many layers. The jacket over the sweatshirt over whatever else was underneath, but Carter could feel the shirt tucked into his pants. He pulled at it, but Simon just had to have a belt on. In the rush, they’d only gone back and back until Simon was tripping on the edge of a left out blanket, tarp, or whatever it was. They tumbled down and froze in the aftermath of the loud, echoing bang.

Then, laughter.

“You wear so much fucking clothes,” Carter shook his head fondly.

“It’s cold in here,” Simon said, reaching up to curl his fingers in Carter’s hair and pull him back down. The kiss then was gentle, just a press of lips. Carter left in awe of what a human response that had been. It was _cold_. Simon was cold.

“I can fix that,” Carter muttered.

“Wow,” Simon laughed in return. He pushed up just enough that he could sit, Carter kneeling awkwardly between his spread knees. “You don’t have to do the weird talking—I mean,” he sniffed, “we can just…”

“Right, right. Right,” hidden under an awkward laugh.

He helped Simon shed off the jacket, and it fell to the floor. The sweatshirt followed. Then, the buttons of Simon’s shirt. Once the shirt fell open, Carter hesitated just a moment, letting his hands hover over Simon’s chest. He looked, a silent question, and Simon gave him a nod. It was slow, the touch. Slow, but all of the sudden, and all at once. Simon sucked in a breath when Carter’s hands ran up his stomach, over his chest where they stopped. They kissed, coming together in the middle, and Carter laid them both back down.

All the sudden, they were moving against each other. Simon was working off Carter’s jacket as the kiss deepened. There was tongue, spit dripping down from the corner of Simon’s mouth as they pressed closer. Carter lost his jacket easily, then his shirt. Then, he was trailing kisses along Simon’s jaw and pressing teeth into his neck as he dipped lower, his hands reaching now for Simon’s belt. Even with shaking hands, he managed to get it open just enough that he could get at the button, the zipper. Simon’s hips bucked up at the first accidental touch, and it was the first he realized that he was hard.

“Man, you really—”

“Don’t,” Simon breathed out. “Just—ah, get on with it.”

“Alright, alright,” Carter leaned forward, hovering just inches away from Simon’s face. “You must be the romantic type.”

“Sure.” If that made it easier. It meant he didn’t have to explain himself, so he went with it. Relished in the way that Carter kissed him because of it, all fire and passion and tongue as he worked Simon’s pants down over his hips. Ran his hands over the newly revealed expanse of skin.

Simon groaned, rolled his head back as Carter’s hands dragged along his skin, down his thighs and back up again. Over his hips where he found extra skin to grip onto and yank Simon down, closer, where their bodies were pressed together. Carter was straining against his pants, grinding into Simon as he began to move down his body. Kissing against his neck with an open mouth, scraping teeth along his collar bone until he stopped at Simon’s chest. There, Simon responded immediately. Arched up into the heat of Carter’s mouth as he tongued along the crevice between his pecs. He buried his fingers in Carter’s hair to keep him close, hold him there when he mouthed over a nipple and sucked. Simon positively shuddered at the feeling—still just as sensitive, but this time, he didn’t hate it. He egged Carter on, rolling his hips up to grind their cocks together. The resulting jolt of pleasure—Simon gasped, and Carter bit down just enough to keep it going.

When he moved to lavish the other side just the same, his hands also moved. Carter pressed into Simon’s hip, immobilizing him against the floor. The whine that came was worth it, when Simon’s hands jerked down to try and push Carter away. But he couldn’t get a grip, couldn’t quite find the leverage to be worth anything. All he could do was lay there as Carter ground down into him, as he lapped over his nipple and sucked. He shifted, tried to buck against Carter’s hands, but Carter held fast. Held him down. Worked just a little longer before licking a stripe up to Simon’s ear. He moved to say something, but it dawned on him all at once that Simon hadn’t really responded well to that. Not where he’d been _going_ , so he thought differently. The hesitation lasted just long enough that Simon nudged him, but he fell quiet at Carter’s voice.

“What do you want me to do?” and Carter was still.

 _That_ had never been an option before. All at once, there were tears in Simon’s eyes that Carter didn’t ask about. He just moved his hands, cupped Simon’s face, and kissed him as gently as he could manage. Simon kissed back, finally found the freedom to roll his hips up, and held onto Carter with all the strength he could muster. It was _him_ who deepened the kiss this time, letting their tongues mingle—there was saliva again, but Carter wiped it as he pulled back.

“Just—just touch me,” Simon all but pleaded. “I want this—I do. You, Carter.” The name was so important. He trailed off in just a mantra of _Carter_ before the kissing started again. Hot, fast, messy. Short lived as Carter moved against his neck, shifted them so that Simon’s legs were spread around his hips.

Simon jolted when Carter wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. He was achingly hard, and the touch just made it worse. The slow drag of Carter’s hand, pressing in all the right places as he began to stroke. He was slow, deliberate, spreading down each drop of precum as they appeared. God—it was slow, so slow. Simon was whimpering, rolling his hips up to try and expedite it, but Carter was steadfast. He just flicked his wrist, up and down, watching the way Simon trembled. His own hands wound up together on his chest, fingers entangled like he was trying to keep himself from doing something.

“Carter—” a broken gasp, “you don’t have to—please, I want—”

“I want to,” Carter whispered, quietly, just along the shell of his ear. He followed it with the tip of his tongue, tortuously slow. “Why so reserved?”

“I just—this is different, I…” he trailed off, letting his head lull to the side to press his lips to Carter’s in a lazy roll, broken off only by a gasp as Carter moved just right. “You—! You must, you must need something too.”

“I’m fine,” Carter lied. It was obvious in his face, the bulge in his pants. He was desperate for attention, but still refused it. Had all his attention focused on Simon, every minuscule little movement of his face as he moved his hand, found what Simon really liked. The way his eyebrows arched up when Carter thumbed over his slit, pressing down just a little too hard, but oh Simon’s jaw dropped open and he groaned. Rolled up his hips seeking more friction, more _anything_ , and Carter obliged.

“Do you want to come now?” Carter’s breath tickled along his ear again. “Or do you want to move on? To something more, maybe? Something a little…” Carter let his hand fall away, brushing his thumb just under Simon’s balls, down to where his hole was dripping.

“I—” Simon gasped. It was then Carter realized that Simon was touching himself, palming and pinching at his nipples. It was a sight to behold, the way he trembled under his own ministrations. Carter almost forgot that he was supposed to be doing something too, until Simon rolled his hips up.

“To something more, then,” Carter mused, mostly to himself. Simon was a little too far off for conversation. Instead, it was just the hum of the Christmas lights behind them and Simon’s panting.

Every shift Carter made was uncomfortable, but he was trying to keep his focus. He let go long enough to undo his own pants and shimmy them down just far enough to release his cock. He let out a sigh of relief, granting himself a few meager strokes before he got back to work. Simon was looking more inviting by the moment, and he reacted so prettily when Carter finally pressed up against him again. A finger against his perineum, then down, down through the mess he was making. _This_ was definitely not something that every android was equipped with. It was wonderful. Made the initial press easy and smooth, even though Simon held his breath as Carter pushed in to the knuckle.

“Easy, easy,” Carter whispered. He leaned over to brace himself on his forearm, to cradle Simon’s head and keep him close. “I got you.”

He worked so slow, just easing his finger in and out until Simon was trembling, until he was desperate for something more. Playing at his chest wasn’t enough anymore; Simon had dropped one hand to tug on his cock, trying to work himself to that climax he’d been promised. And they were kissing—slowly, sensually, enough that Simon could count every second where Carter licked along his lips, felt his teeth and the inside of his mouth. Just kissing, kissing, and then Simon was gasping at the press of a second finger. He picked up the pace then, working his fingers in and out, stretching them, working deeper. After a moment, he felt along that little protruding spot, and Simon had to cover his mouth to prevent the echo. His back arched off the ground, his eyes rolled back, but Carter didn’t relent. He didn’t pull back his fingers, just stayed there, massaging into the spot until Simon’s thighs were shaking and he was having trouble keeping still.

“Carter—Carter,” he gasped, hips bucking up almost uncontrollably. It was too much all at once, and the pleasure coiled around in a knot at the base of his pelvis until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He came with a muffled shout, eyes closed tightly and cum spattering over his stomach. Only then did Carter stop the assault and move his fingers, but his pace was still fast. He fucked Simon on his fingers, and he didn’t have to stop—his arm would never get tired, and the pace was incessant.

“You’re doing good, so good,” Carter told him. Kept pushing until he had worked a third finger inside of Simon. The way Simon opened up for him was beautiful, all panting and gasps and rolling his hips to meet Carter’s fingers.

This feeling was so distinct, so different—nothing like he’d been expecting. It was almost too much for how sensitive he was, but that didn’t seem like cause for it to stop. Not this time. He egged it on, even, rolling his head to the side and doing whatever he thought would work to try and entice Carter closer, further. More than just fingers. Even given Carter’s state, it was proving to be a challenge to get him to move forward. His fingers were something else, though. They were long, thing, but precise. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, and _gods_ did he. Every few thrusts, he’d brush across that protruding spot. A simulated prostate, twice as sensitive, and easier to find. He could’ve easily wrenched another orgasm out of Simon, but he didn’t. He wasn’t. He was _playing._

“Carter. Carter, please. I’m ready, I want you—I want you,” Simon breathed.

“You’ve got me,” Carter leaned over him again, that playful smirk growing out on his lips.

“Don’t be smart. I’m begging you, please just—”

“Oh, we’re begging now?” Carter had the nerve to laugh. To laugh! He was _laughing_ at Simon, in that melodic voice he had.

“Yes, we’re begging. Just. Come on,” Simon rolled his hips again. Carter had gone still in the moment, and that reminded him of just what they were doing. He jabbed his fingers once, twice, then pulled them out completely.

“Alright, alright. To the good part.”

Simon scoffed. He couldn’t even be mad about it, because this was so comfortable. Even lying on the floor of Jericho, nothing but his jacket beneath them, it was comfortable. Carter made it comfortable, _easy_ , just like he made everything else. It didn’t feel strange or wrong. Like it was something they shouldn’t be doing. It felt good. Every part of it. Even watching as Carter’s head rolled back when he took himself in hand, stroking. It was only a moment later that Simon realized what he was doing—spreading Simon’s slick over his cock. Then he was moving, shifting Simon’s legs again and manhandling him until the position was easy. Carter only dragged the head of his cock through the cleft of Simon’s ass. Just touching, barely catching his entrance. Pressing up along his perineum and underneath his balls. Then, back down, back up. With each pass, he pressed a little bit closer than he had before. Each time, catching Simon’s hole almost enough to press in but not quite. All the while, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Carter, for the love of—” broken off with a moan as Carter pushed in, all at once, until their hips were flush against each other. Simon was trembling, shaking, rolling his hips back to meet Carter, and trying to find some type of purchase against him.

“Whoa,” Carter laughed, “you just come again?”

“Shut it,” Simon groaned.

“Never,” Carter pressed their foreheads together, smiling, letting his eyes close. “You’re absolutely perfect—beautiful,” he whispered.

Before Simon could respond, or even register that sudden shiver that ran down his spine, Carter was moving. In slow, precise thrusts, just rolling his hips; he never pulled back very far, just shifted and pressed as close as he could. Like he couldn’t get enough of Simon, like he needed to stay this close. And, he did. When Simon started to groan, Carter swallowed his sounds. They still needed to stay relatively quietly. Easier said than done, with one particular thrust, Simon was suddenly tight, breathing hard and gripping hands into Carter’s shoulder.

“That good?”

“K-keep going,” Simon begged. “Harder, please.”

“I love hearing you beg.” But he obliged, suddenly pulling back and slamming forward.

Carter’s hands went to Simon’s hips, gripping him there tightly and pulling him into every thrust. The force of it was enough to knock the breath from Simon, even if they were still going slow, slow, tortuously slow. Simon had to bite down on his fist to keep from shouting. He was close, so close—again—and each stutter of Carter’s hips told him that Carter wasn’t far off. Each thrust was exactly where it needed to be, dragging along Simon’s prostate and wrenching groans from him, barely muffled by his hand. His head was thrown back, back arched as he worked himself down onto Carter.

Everything was burning, building up between them. Carter leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands, panting. His eyes were screwed shut; jaw hung open. Pleasure was so clearly strewn across his face; Simon couldn’t help but reach up and cup his cheeks, bringing him down for another heated kiss. Then his hips jerked once, twice, and he was groaning into Simon’s mouth. The sudden rush was enough to have Simon following, coming over himself again, but Carter didn’t stop. His hips kept moving, jerking in the aftermath of his own orgasm and fucking Simon through his. Until Carter finally collapsed against him, panting and shifting until it was at least slightly comfortable to be laying like this—Simon’s hips still hitched up, legs draped around Carter, Carter still inside him. It wasn’t comfortable in the least, but Simon endured it in turn for running his fingers through Carter’s hair.

This was the afterglow he wanted, this awkward moment where they were still entwined in each other, coming down from the high. Just basking in each other for a moment. Carter even pressed little kisses along Simon’s jaw, his cheek, planting a final one on his lips before pulling back. He’d finally regained enough strength to move, to pull out. He stayed there, knelt between Simon’s legs, and just stared down. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape. Simon didn’t have to ask what he was staring at, he knew. He could feel Carter’s cum dripping out of him.

“This is going to suck to clean up,” Simon grumbled.

“Nah.” Carter pressed a kiss to Simon’s temple before standing up. “I’ll take care of it. Can I meet you in your room? Unless you, uh, wanna clean yourself up alone—”

“No, no that’s fine. I’ll uh,” Simon pushed himself up. “Meet you there. You can stay, too, the night.”

The clean-up didn’t take as long as Simon thought it would, and he relished in having help to do it. Carter was slow, caring, and they kissed through it. Dare he say it, Simon almost thought they felt like _lovers_ , and it was nice. Wonderful. His heart felt light when they finally laid down, squished together on Simon’s single cot. Carter was against the wall with his arms around Simon’s waist, Simon tucked up under his chin. Even if it was only for a night, only for a moment, Simon felt safe. Happy, even.

**Author's Note:**

> [CyberShips Tower](https://discord.gg/T7sW7DB)   
>  [Check Out My Tumblr If You Want To See More](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)   
> 


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